"Do you believe in Moriarty?" they asked Sherlock. He was standing in a cold, dark room, all by himself. There was a bright light on him, and that's all he knew.

"What do you mean if I believe?"

"Do you believe in him existing? Do you believe in what he stands for? Do you believe that he came back?"

Sherlock shook his head while spinning around, trying to see if he could notice anyone."He died. I saw it." He stood on the building. He threatened him and his loved ones. Then he died, blood pooling around his lifeless body, showcasing that he had won. Except he hadn't. Sherlock looked around the pitch black room. "Who's there?"

A few moments later, the voice came back. "It doesn't matter who I am. The only person that matters is Moriarty."

Sherlock let out a giggle; he didn't mean it to be nervous, but it somewhat was. "Then why bring me in? Why not question the famous Moriarty?"

Now it was the voices turn to laugh. "You already know that, Sherlock. So, tell me, why? Why you?"

Sherlock didn't need to think about his answer, he had been thinking about it since that day.

His long coat was waving in the breeze, while his accomplice was on the floor, blood oozing from his head. The cement beneath his feet was turning crimson red, but that didn't stop him. He knew what he needed to do. He picked up his phone and dialled the number. He took in a breath and pressed the green button to start the call; the call he would dread for the next two years.

"I was there." The light around him started to get brighter and brighter as he said those three words. It got so bright, until he was blinded, and then that light was replaced by different scenery.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, in Lestrade's office. It was midnight, but he refused to go home. Since he had refused, Lestrade and John were forced to stay with him. He shook John, who was on a chair beside him, then leaned over Lestrade's desk and shook him awake.

They both groaned, but got up without refusing. Lestrade looked completely pissed when he sat up and turned his chair around. Maybe I shouldn't have woken them up. "What is it Sherlock?" Sherlock disregarded Lestrade's question and turned his attention to John. "You're the medical expert, how long can cocaine keep someone up?"

John lifted his eyebrows and opened his eyes. "Depends on the dosage", he said in a groggy voice.

"Ahh, you two are no help!" Sherlock thought back to his previous experiences with the drug. He jumped to his feet. "Come on, she'll still be awake!" He waltzed out of the room, a skip in his step.

Lestrade looked at John, obviously he's not an early morning person. John just shrugged his shoulders and followed Sherlock down the hall.

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Mary walked into the questioning room, making sure to close the door very quietly. Emma quickly shuffled her sleeves down to her wrist. Mary could tell that she was bewildered; she could tell that she was still under the influence of the drug from her bloodshot eyes. "Mary? What are you--"

Mary put her finger on her lips. "Shhh.... I'm supposed to be getting coffee." Emma relaxed a bit, but she was still pretty tense. Her shoulders were up to her ears and her hands were glued together. "Don't worry, they don't know I'm here. I... Just came to ask you something....."

Emma started shaking, and she didn't even realize it. "Can I ask you something first?" She looked at Mary, the first time she looked up from the table.

"Anything."

She lifted her sleeves and showed them to Mary. Mary squinted, as she was very tired. On Emma's arms were quite a few red dots, from where the cocaine was injected. Emma saw Mary's reaction and realized she didn't need to ask her question. "They are real, then." Emma brought her sleeves back down to her wrists and waited for Mary to ask her question.

"Do you believe in Moriarty?"

Emma looked puzzled at first, but then let out an 'ahhh' sound that reassured Mary that she knew who he was. She still looked a bit puzzled, though. "What do you mean do I believe?"

Mary thought about her question-- she only expected Emma to answer it, not to reply to her question with another question. After 10 seconds, she knew what to say. "Do you believe in him existing? Do you believe in what he stands for? Do you believe that he came back?"

Emma laughed. "Of course he existed. Richard Brooks was just for a little side story, mess with his head. It was the painting that got me, though."

Mary furrowed her brows and leaned forward in her chair. She was intrigued. The painting is what had gotten her? Not how Moriarty shot himself, how Sherlock survived, or even about all that was at stake? What got her was a painting? "Why?"

"The name. The Reichenbach Falls. Reichenbach translates to 'Richard Brook', Moriarty only did that to see if Sherlock would keep to his word." Emma coughed, and, mimicking Sherlock, said, "You see but you don't observe." She coughed again, switching back to her normal voice. "But of course, Sherlock stayed true to his word. He says that so many times that if he didn't stick to his word, I would have slapped him, but that's not the only thing about the painting.

"It could refer to Sherlock falling for his act. Jim pretended to be gay, and Sherlock didn't even suspect him to be someone important. Or, it could represent Sherlock literally falling. The painting was significant because the whole plan was based around it. Moriarty wanted to see if he would notice.

"Of course, though, you could turn the table and make it in favour of Sherlock. Moriarty, Jim, Rich Brooks, whatever you want to call him, fell for Sherlock's act. Did he really think that Sherlock would go to him without making a plan first?"

Emma sighed, and Mary sat back in her chair. "Just say it", Mary urged her. "We're all friends here."

Emma leaned forward in her chair. "Sherlock told John that he 'chose' you and him. He 'chose' the psychopaths. Well, based on that, what if Sherlock chose Moriarty? When you really think about it, it happened with Moriarty's first murder when he was 8 and Sherlock was 11. That's when he chose Moriarty. That's why Moriarty recreated it, to see if he was really paying attention."

Mary looked on in awe. She had never thought of it like that.

"And if you still want to know what I think about Moriarty, I think he's a genius."